measuring of truth
by Fenice
Summary: One is running away from his fate like a rabbit while the other believes he knows where to go. Measuring the truth will take lives. A SiriusRegulus story. OS.


**One is running away from his fate like a rabbit while the other believes he knows where to go. Measuring the truth will take lives.**

Thanks to JKR for the world she lends us.

Thanks to Nick Cave for inspiring me – I know how old I sound…

Thanks to Alixe and Vert who first believed in the plot.

Thanks to LupinLovesTonks for her kind betaing…

This is my first fic in English… a challenge no less…

**Measuring of truth**

He was naught with fear, exhaustion and pain. He could barely breathe, let alone walk.

Well, he had asked for it, hadn't he?

He repressed a bitter smile as he crept, more like a worm than a man, out of the cave.

The sound of the waves was soothingly real – like the promise of a better future. He had made it! But his elation did not last long.

Well almost. But you, you know future is not for you, he reminded himself harshly. There was no future for a betraying Death Eater - Whatever his or her cleverness, strength or lineage might be. And he knew all too clearly he wasn't that clever that he would be able to hide his betrayal for very long.

And he how had grown up painfully reminded him of how sickeningly weak he was: unable to stand and choose his own path in life, unable to even match the brilliant results of his older sibling. Well maybe this last fate was changing after all!

Even if for his lineage, Regulus Aristides Black thought, he doubted his name would be enough to save him from the Dark Lord's wrath.

He stumbled out of the cave. The tide was mercifully low and had saved him from swimming – a task he would have had problems to complete, exhausted as he was. And, even if he was sure these days were counted, he wouldn't have cherished the thought of dying draught. Once again he had to fight back the urge to laugh as if the life inside him was bigger than his reason and his despair. He failed and the laugh came out, surprisingly strong – a deep laugh, much like a barking, much close to HIS, he thought and this pleased him enough to help him cope with his broken ribs, burnt skin, and dry throat.

He reached the sand beach after a ten-minutes excruciating walk in knee-high water. As false as the promise of power and purity made by the Dark Lord, the Dawn was rising, beautiful and unreachable over his head.

00

"These old families," said the older Auror, his despise clear and sound. "They all must be banned over seas!"

Some laughed, some lifted their shoulders, but James froze.

"Are you talking to me," he menacingly asked the older and more graded Auror.

"Well, some are older than others," the other answered smartly, with a sly smile.

"What the hell it is supposed to mean," retorted James, Sirius moved over to place a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"It is simply addressed to me, James."

He had merely whispered, but it had sound like an astounding war declaration. Everyone had silenced in the locker room and stared at the actors of the impending fight. Sirius could tell the older Auror was measuring him – he had the reputation he could not deny of answering to any challenge, of retorting to any doubt raised on the purity of his motivations, whoever they might come from.

"He would even duel with Dumbledore for his honour," he had heard an Auror student affirm once, to a friend Sirius had left stunned and blue after he had loudly question his devotion for light magic. "Dumbledore knows better than provoking him," another had added . They were both damn right!

"Blacks are raised to defend their family, right?" the new candidate insinuated, to his anger.

"If you suggest, I will stand between them and you the day you manage to ship them away, you're wrong," replied evenly Sirius, not even bitter.

The frigidness in the room lightened somewhat. The worse seemed to be spared. No fight in the Auror family. The older Auror hesitated a second then decided he had won and smiled, turning slowly his back as saying: "Look at this Black, no more backbone than a girl."

"But watch your back," added coldly Sirius as the man paced away. "I must push you at the last minute to join them in your happy exile."

Laughs and worries change sides – even if looking at James, no one could really say he approved Sirius' boldness. The Auror turned slowly:

"Is this a threat?"

"A promise", retorted Sirius ignoring stubbornly James warning looks.

000

Regulus apparated with more ease that he had anticipated from the beach by the cliff and found himself quickly safe, but shaken at the little house he had dwelt in for four days now. He suspected that he would have to leave very soon because the place couldn't stay safe for so long. But he knew he will be sad to leave the little house by the cliff because he liked its view and its reassuring simplicity. Nothing compared to the musty giddy splendour of 12, Grimmauld Place where he has grown up. But, maybe because of its difference, for the first time for a long time, he had the silly feeling of having a home.

I am so silly, he thought as he stood looking at the sun rising up in the sky. Sirius used to make fun of me: _You're such a girl, Reg!_

But there were no points to think at this foregone past when his older brother was protectively mocking him for his dreamy ways. Too much has happened since then. Sirius has long passed beyond the point of fun, choosing hatred instead, despising the familial harbour of the Blacks for the high sea of choices and battles, standing for his ideas, his ideal and his friend against his blood.

And how much have you loathed him for that, mother, added silently Regulus, rubbing his burns absent-mindedly. But you were the one who raised us repeating one should prefer death to dishonour, death to living against one's principles. You used to reproach me for my lack of willingness compared to Sirius'.

How much are you going to hate me for this... He wondered for himself – he had been having these fake discussions with his mother for years now, dreaming them wasn't as bad as having to do them, he had discovered for a long time ago. Well, I shouldn't keep my expectation too high... all your hatred is gone with Sirius, I suppose. I only have a chance to be the object of your deception – once again... he thought bitterly. And only if I am lucky enough to succeed, he severely recalled himself.

Well I have already achieved something, he decided, sitting tiredly on the edge of the shabby table by the widow. With a feeling of accomplishment, he let come the memory of the locket and of the message he had left. He would never live long enough to see the face of the Dark Lord when he realised that three of his beloved horcruxes have been destroyed! If only I could destroy one more before he kills me... He thought hauntingly. If only...

_Reg, will you ever stop hoping for the world to change? Is that too much for you to accept the fact you're a loser?_

Well, Sirius had a point there, hadn't he? If Regulus had been such a dreamer for most of his life, it has been in the secret hope to find an escape to his status of eternal second – second in the Black lineage, second in the love of their Mother, second and last in the interest of their Father, second to enter Hogwarts...

Sometimes, the quality of the first tells something of the second, he decided lovingly but feverishly. For his brother has been everything one could expect the heir of the Black to be: handsome face, agile body, clever mind, sharp tongue... a powerful and gifted wizard. And he had been more than that: good at Quidditch, good at Transfiguration, talented prankster, faithful friend, frivolous boyfriend for a generation of young witches – in reality as well as in dream!

What was left for him then but tradition, family, obedience, painstaking work? But even this path has proved to be misleading. Was he born to become a Muggle killer, a constant menace to average witches and wizards, a fear for children and older people, for the weak and the innocent? How good was a tradition which makes him a beast? What had become of the purity of blood? Could one's blood been regenerated by crime? Lies, all of these, craps, he had woken up one day thinking.

And this stupid Muggle song, Sirius used to listen to, upsetting everybody's nerves, came back, haunting him. _A lie for a lie..._ Yes, he was taking his revenge by betraying the Dark Lord, there was no other way. He was putting an end to the twisted of truth and he was not afraid to die.

000

"The word out is Black has left," said the nervous man they met behind the Muggle pub. Sirius felt the eyes of the three other Aurors swiping quickly toward him. He made a point not to express any reaction. He had no idea what this filthy man was trying to sell to the Division but he wasn't fool enough to jump at every mention of his family name – And the Commandant had made clear the last time he had, he shouldn't.

"Which Black," James asked casually.

For my great and pure family is numerous, smirked inwardly Sirius even if he genuinely doubted anyone as mental as Bellatrix could willingly leave the Death Eaters – at least she found her real family there. He would have been less positive for Narcissa who was at heart a follower... of her parents, of older sister, her husband... but, this was the exact reason because her leaving was unlikely. This strange Arithmancy left only one out: Regulus, his stupid little brother... the only pride left of their wretched Mother... One could rather imagine the Dark Lord willingly surrendering instead of Regulus daring to raise a finger against the stupid ideas of purity of blood and family pride. He concluded with an intact anger as he was only discovering the fact.

Their last encounter was... how to say that... professional... The Death Eaters were massively attacking a usually calm neighbourhood taking Muggles and wizards' homes alike. When the Division arrived the corpses and the wreckage were already visible and the Dark mark was immense against the dark sky... The Aurors had to fight foot by foot to defend what was left but eventually they pushed the Dark Lord followers back...

One good thing with the Death Eaters was that they are generally prompt to leave when the fate was against them... smirked Sirius in recollection, remembering Lucius feverishly calling for retreat. At this point, there has been a bunch, a dozen, of Death Eaters who had been taken alive in a yard where apparating was impossible... Sirius had been sent to help to guard them and the young Auror who had been left in charge had been prompt to point him his sibling in the group, visibly hoping to provoke a confrontation.

Reg had expressed no surprise or shame to see him there. There has been merely a glint in his eyes as they stare briefly at each other – something like a silent plea, like an untold longing, something which reminded him of the happier days he would leave him behind, ordering not to tell anyone where he was going... Resenting the silent reproach, he hadn't been able to keep still and had teased: "Do you have no shame for the pride of our name to let you get caught that easily?"

Reg had taken the provocation with a strange slow smile and had replied with more wit than usual: "You're longing to see me dead, aren't you Sirius? Let me just finish what I have begun, it won't be long now!" Sirius remembered feeling there was a subtlety to the affirmation but he had merely snorted: "Looking outside, I am under the impression, this glorious day isn't that close, little brother." The other Auror had snorted. But for Sirius many nights had passed since wondering about what Regulus had meant by what it had when he begun... because being a Death Eater could hardly count for a change or a personal decision for a member of the Black family.

The hoarse voice of their information giver brought him back to present.

"The young one," the man had answered James, who had a quick glance for Sirius before insisting:

"You mean Regulus Black?"

The man had a dismissive shrug, like he wasn't really believing the news himself.

"You wouldn't have thought, would you? But the word is against him... They are searching him... hunting him down would be more exact, I suppose."

"What for," asked Sirius, intervening for the first time.

"Betrayal," answered the man with the quizzing look. He has just recognised me, understood Sirius.

"Unlikely," affirmed Sirius to the unspoken question he could read in the eyes of his fellow Aurors around him.

"Sirius," started James with a mix of understanding and exasperation but Sirius waved him off.

"You can call my brother a lot of things, James, but blood traitor isn't among them!" He retorted fiercely at his friend before thinking, surprised by his own anger. The two other Aurors and the man looked at him strangely. Of course, this display of brotherly trust sounded unusual in the mouth of an Auror.

"But you wondered the last time," insisted James stubbornly, unmoved by the furious look Sirius sent him to make him shut up.

"We will discuss this later," interrupted another Auror, the oldest and the leader of this small information party. "What else do you have for us? Any attack, any threat on persons or family?"

"As I said, the capture of Black is first priority," answered the man, making Sirius froze.

Could it be possible Reg has finally moved on? Or was it a plant, a trap directed at him? His heart speeded up, stupidly elated at the incredible thought Regulus could return to the light.

The Aurors asked some routine questions to the man before letting him go with a small leather bag of galleons. Sirius kept silent the entire time, escaping James' gaze each time his old friend looked at him, frowning. Of course, you know me too well to even doubt of my decision, don't you?

0000

It must be my destiny, thought Regulus facing Peter Pettigrew's sympathetic look with a detached expression Father would have praised. Being held responsible for things I haven't done, accused of things I am innocent of, and killed for the wrong reason. An ironic end for someone who had never lived up to his own decisions, he decided

He had been afraid for weeks that Severus Snape wondered why he was in such an urgent need for strong painkilling potions. He had been waiting, meeting after meeting, for the curious Death Eater who would asked why he was now constantly wearing leather gloves. For nights, he had nightmares in which the Dark Lord came to punish him in endless torments. But none of that had occurred. Severus had provided the potions with only a superior sneer, clearly belittling Regulus for being unable to hold the pain. No one had ventured to imagine he was hiding hideous burnings under his fancy black gloves. Narcissa – in a dumbfounding attempt to sound nice - has even found them pretty. And the Dark Lord had given him the leadership of a team during the last attack.

Bellatrix had told him to take it as a reward. But, on the field, when he had taken ten young death Eaters under his commandment, he had felt as if a reward was the last thing he deserved. He had envisioned then, with a strange mix of deception and relief, that his mission – what he had begun – would be stopped by his imprisoning in Azkaban. They had been conduct to a cellar under the supervision of a young bearded Auror - as young and innocent as the Death Eaters he was supposed to guide.

Rapidly two men had come in. The first one had grey hairs and a strong face and Reg instinctively had known he was a chief of some sort. "Because they too have hierarchy and chiefs," he had strangely thought as if he needed to find reason to despise the defenders of the Light.

"Black will stay with you," the man has announced the young Auror and Regulus had recognized with a sharp blow to his heart the high size and strong shoulders of his older brother.

"Oh," had replied the young one with a distinctive smirk, "We will then have the pair."

As the chief didn't seem to catch the joke fast enough, the young Auror had pointed Regulus among the crowd.

"Is this a problem?" asked the chief, turning to Sirius and clearly challenging. "Because they also are able of pettiness, aren't they?" have thought Regulus sadly.

"What kind of problem, Sir," answered Sirius without a pause and the older Auror had left without further comments. Sirius had seated himself by the door and lighted a cigarette when the young Auror had told the story:

"Shacklebolt has just brought them, the whole team it seems... they were trapped in a magical garden with anti-apparition wards. Your brother seems to be the chief."

Sirius had turned slowly, looking him directly in the eyes but without watching him, he could tell.

"Really? Well done, Reg! What a shame for the family. What will Mother say of your poor performance?" He had mocked in such a familiar fashion, Regulus had almost cried.

"I am sorry, Sirius," he had finally replied, painfully aware of the quizzing looks of his fellow death eaters. "I know you would have preferred me to die." He had bitterly bitten his lips looking for his words and cursing his lack of talent in this field. "Let me just finish what I have begun, it won't be long now."

He had read in the familiar grey eyes that there was a double meaning in its words. Regulus had waited for a sign of confirmation but when Sirius had spoken, he had returned to his derisive tone: "Looking outside, I am under the impression, this glorious day isn't that close, little brother."

The younger Auror had snickered at the last line but then the battle had taken a new turn and some owl had come with the order for them to change location. Sirius and the young Auror had ushered them outside and tried to bring them in the right direction. In the confusion, some fresh troops had taken the whole lot for Death Eaters and attacked them. Before Sirius and his fellow Auror had been able to make the firing of hexes stop, five young Death Eaters had fallen and the rest had fled – Regulus among them.

And it was this story that the Dark lord and his advisers seemed to have had a hard time believing. If he understood well what Peter was saying, he must leave at once and not return because the Dark Lord was questioning his loyalty during the last failed attack.

"He has been told you spoke with Sirius," warned Peter, avoiding his eyes when saying his brother and former friend's name. "He wonders why you escaped the Aurors. Some say you're a lick for the Division."

Regulus smirked.

"A lick?" he asked, confronting the little blond friend of his brother with his own treachery. He had been really astonished when Regulus had met Peter at a Death Eaters meeting for the first time. Astonished enough to go to Bellatrix and ask her what he was doing there. His cousin had smiled and assessed:

"Sirius would love the irony of this, don't you think? He has protected this little worm for years, offering the nest and food for the rat who is going to give him to us."

Regulus had obviously nodded and laughed with her, but I felt strangely sorry for Sirius, for his trust in his friends... No better than family, finally! His path hadn't crossed Pettigrew's often and he had thanked the unborn gods for this. He did not want to know what kind of information Pettigrew was bringing or what use he was for the Dark Lord.

"Regulus, I wouldn't come and warn you if it weren't for your brother," replied Pettigrew, with more backbone than Regulus would have credited him for.

"Are you telling me you are spying the Dark Lord on account of my dear brother," he snarled.

Pettigrew had danced from one foot to another, understanding Regulus accusation and pondering his answer:

"You are not the only one to take risks!"

Regulus had a rapid thought for the three destroyed horcruxes and smiled serenely. He wondered how Pettigrew would react if he knew. When he had come to this bold and courageous decision of avenging himself from the Dark Lord, to impede the happening of the very cause he had been serving without questions, Regulus had been realistic enough to face the fact he couldn't tell anyone – friends or foes alike.

If the distinction between them still stands, he added silently, observing the nervous little man in front of him.

"I am only thinking of the future," added Pettigrew pointlessly. Once again Regulus only smiled. He had always known he will die, hadn't he? And he would, knowing he had been acting for his own honour and his own freedom and not for any familial pride or public reward or even knowledge.

He had thought sometimes he was doing it as an encouraging gesture toward someone, who in some years, or in some decades, would be brave, bold and fool enough to face the Dark Lord and, who knows, defeat him. Some other times, Regulus believed that no one would ever be able of such bravery and that his attempt to destroy some of Voldemort's horcruxes would be the only resistance to his dark overpowering. On his more realistic days, he understood how much this belief was preposterous. Then he was left with the obsessive guessing of who this future potential saviour may be: a man, a woman, a child?

Who would be pure and brave enough? He would wonder on long nights.

Who will mix the innocence of the Unicorn and the courage of the Lion? Once again they were only dreams and childlike thoughts without any concrete results.

On his worse days – or so he believed – he would arrived to the strange desire that his own brother would dare everything and destroy the evil who broke down their brotherhood and their family. Hadn't Sirius already embraced the shameful carrier of an Auror? What for then, if not for defeating the darkest force that had appeared lately on the earth? At this point, he would refuse the more realistic assessment that Sirius had made his carrier choice simply because it was the most upsetting choice he could make for their parents. He would refuse to consider that this choice had ensured Sirius to stay close to his "other" brother, James Potter. It was a sad thought and he didn't need more bitterness at a time, when his fate seems sealed.

"Sirius used to say I was always running and that before long I will be in trouble," said Regulus finally. "But, if you're right, Peter, there is nowhere I could run this time."

"Maybe there is," replied Pettigrew, obviously distressed by the lack of combativeness of Sirius' brother.

"You would like me to make Sirius right once again?" he asked.

00000

"I have to find him before them," Sirius explained throwing few Muggle clothes in a sailor bag.

"Sirius, what make you think it is not a trap?"

"You were the one who told me I couldn't refuse my own brother a chance," retorted Sirius angrily to James who turned to Remus and Peter for help, getting further more on Sirius' nerves.

"How can you be sure, he wants your help, Padfoot?" the young werewolf finally asked, with his usual reasonable voice, Sirius had come several times to hate. As if reason was the answer to injustice, prejudice, mass murders and betrayal!

"What do you know about brotherhood," he retorted angrily, regretting his words as he spat them. Remus smiled bitterly in response, stopping James' angry intervention by a negative sign of head.

"I just wanted to point out to you that maybe it won't be as easy as you seem to believe," Remus started again. "There have been a lot of cold waters between the two of you for years, Sirius... You don't know what turned him against Voldemort."

Sirius noted with a smirk that Peter had cringed as usual upon hearing the name.

"But I know I won't turn my back to him if he wants to make amends," he intervened abruptly. Remus raised his both hands in surrender. His three friends kept silent as he carried on with his packing. None of them looked happy with his decision but at least they didn't discuss it further, he realised with some contentment.

"Sirius, hem," Peter finally started, "How do you know you will find him?"

"I know where the rabbit runs," Sirius replied with a small smile.

"The rabbit?" asked Remus, arching an eyebrow.

"We used to tease him... because he was always the first one to run away when we were children," Sirius explained, with a mixed feeling of longing for the days where life was easier, and hatred for the ones who had made it so complicated.

There was no use for his friends to ask whom the 'we' refers to. The three were well aware of the plays Bellatrix, Narcissa and Sirius had shared in the very far past when the war hadn't forced them to take sides. Sirius felt his anger relenting somewhat at this thought. He had the family he had chosen and there was no place left for regret.

"Regulus Aristides Black, R.A.B, rabbit," he added with a shrug.

James smiled, finally remembering the story and the laughs when Sirius had made the surname public in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

"And where is the house of the rabbit," he finally asked.

Trustingly, Sirius told them, not knowing that he would be right and arrive only to weep on his brother's corpse. Because it would take him more years and tears to measure the truth.

0000


End file.
